


Tainted

by castiel_to_my_sherlock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anxiety, Basically, Death, Destiel - Freeform, Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Spirit Animals, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Young Bela Talbot, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3270395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiel_to_my_sherlock/pseuds/castiel_to_my_sherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is a young medical sorcerer's apprentice just looking to climb the ladder and get work done. Dean is the owner of a slightly tacky magicians shop in need of medical assistance of more than one kind. Cas' messed up past still haunts him but can he shake it off before it becomes a problem?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tainted

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork is done by truthismusic on livejournal.  
> Shout out to my amazing beta who has helped me in so many ways in this fic! You can go see her here: http://stargazingcas.tumblr.com/

 

Chapter One 

Dean’s knees bounced up and down as he sat in the clinic, his eyes darting from nurse to nurse as he waited to be called upon. He looked down at the space next to his feet, knowing it would soon be filled, assuming all went well. Maybe it’d perch on his shoulder if it was a small animal. Shivers ran down Dean’s back. Sammy was quite a way from materialisation yet so he wasn’t permitted to be in the clinic with him, but the knowledge that his little brother was waiting outside gave Dean a little comfort. He smiled as he imagined Sam, nose in a book of spells, casting tiny puffs of air and marvelling at the way the pages rippled under his fingers at the disturbance. Nerd, Dean grinned to himself, clutching his ticket tightly as it turned pale green. It was time for him to go in. 

The sorcerer pocketed the ticket and looked down the hall sheepishly. He’d never done well in seeking class and he didn’t like his chances but if he tried to seek out the room on his own, he’d never be able to leave. He opened his palm and closed his eyes, going through the procedure step by step. He envisioned a trail of light, like stardust, leading him to his room. The tattoo that snaked up his arm and right shoulder glowed faintly white, the tiger stripe pattern thrumming with the magic. The glow faded away as what was the start of a glittering golden trail, disappeared along with Dean’s patience. An eye cracked open and Dean sagged in annoyance as there was no magical path to be seen. He tried again, eyes closed with his palm open and tilted slightly forward as if it would will the magic to fly from his open hand. No luck. 

“Excuse me sir?” a tap on the shoulder broke him from his concentration. 

“Uh, yeah?” Dean said intelligently. 

“Room 17, five doors down and on the left,” the nurse smiled encouragingly as Dean’s cheeks were painted pink with embarrassment. 

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled as he tried not to run for the safety of the hallway. Yeah, or…y’know, he could just ask for directions. 

Dean knocked and then opened the door, smiling politely at the doctor who introduced himself as Bobby. Dean took the offered seat opposite Bobby's desk and sat, waiting patiently for the doctor to start. As Dean began telling him about his shop for the records, a bird flew in through the open storage closet door. Dean almost fell off his chair as it squawked and then decided Dean’s shoulder was a comfortable place to perch. The young enchanter sat comically still, not a muscle twitching save his eyes as he looked desperately for help at Bobby. 

“Cas, get this damn bird offa my patient,” Bobby yelled making the bird flap about and consequently, a quiet whimper fall from Dean’s mouth. A man, roughly Dean’s age, smiled in delight as he watched Dean’s awkward position on the chair become even stiffer as the bird shuffled again. From where he was leaning against the door frame, Cas whistled. 

“Lu,” the dark haired man called his bird and it gave one long, beady eyed look at the terrified sorcerer before flying to Cas’ raised arm. Dean could now see it radiated a purple glow, the same colour as the sheen of its black feathers when bathed in the florescent light. Dean nodded woodenly, smiled awkwardly and gave a weary look to where Bobby’s spirit animal lay, bathed in an oak brown radiance. This one seemed docile enough. It was a bulldog that Bobby had introduced as ‘Colt’. Dean wondered what colour his animal would exude and whether it would attack strangers on principle or doze by his side all day. 

“Sorry for the disturbance. I’m Dr. Singer’s apprentice, Castiel,” the man from the doorway offered the hand that wasn’t attached to the arm holding Lu up. Dean took it and stood up casting a weary look at the bird. “Lu’s a cowbird, a gentle cowbird.” 

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched up as the bird cocked its head. “Boy or girl?” Dean asked while waving his hand in front of Lu and watching its eyes track the movement. 

“Lu is a genderless bird. I mean, if they’re representing our souls then why slap a label on them? They’re totally unique beings and people often forget that. Lu is not bound by this society’s notion that two genders are all there is. They are not of this realm and therefore should not be confined by this realms standard,” Cas finished with a slight nod of his head, daring Dean to contradict him. Dean grinned and stroked one of Lu’s wings softly. 

“Lu the genderless bird. Awesome,” Dean looked up into Cas’ azure eyes which widened with surprise. Dean was 96.3% sure those eyes contained unexplored galaxies but he filed that notion away in the locked cabinet of ‘totally inappropriate’. Castiel’s lips quirked into a half smile but Bobby’s cough defused the tension soon enough. 

“If we’re done flirting, boys, I’d like to get on,” Bobby grumbled, shuffling papers. The two broke apart and Dean sat down, Cas going back to organising the store cupboard bashfully. Bobby harrumphed and continued asking his questions, sighing when he saw Dean’s eyes wander toward the cupboard where Cas’ lower back was just visible as he stretched for the top shelf. 

“Yer gonna be fine, just keep checkin’ in every week or so,” Bobby said, patting the dog that’d come to rest its head on Bobby’s lap. 

“Weekly? I got Sammy to look after and a shop to run. Can I just take a leaflet or somethin’?” Dean complained, his body tense and ready to flee if Bobby tried to sign him up for some visit at home. 

“I can get ya a home visit,” Bobby looked for a form in his draw and Dean got up, the magic words said. He was ready to decline and take his chances until Bobby called Cas out of the cupboard. “Hey, Cas. You okay for a home visit with Dean here? It’s weekly. That fit yer schedule?” 

Cas looked at Dean and smirked slightly, Lu staring unnervingly but slightly less threatening than an hour ago. 

“My calendar is open,” he offered. Dean paused for a second then picked up a pen, worried that he was going too fast and simultaneously not fast enough. 

“Where do I sign?” 

Chapter Two 

Dean tripped over a jar full to the brim with tea leaves for the third time that hour. The narrow path through the hocus pocus crap lining the shop floor, walls, shelves and other was becoming rapidly narrower. Sam sat on one of the chairs he’d cleaned off and nestled between the sage bunches hanging from the ceiling, and the assortment of inspirational quote plaques practically bursting from the wall. 

“Why do people buy this stuff, Dean?” Sam asked, tossing an object that looked like glass baubles and glittery feathers had had a love child into a woven basket. 

“Well Sam, you may be too young to understand this but,” Dean began. 

“I’m 11 and top of my class.” 

“Shhhhh,” Dean held a finger to Sam’s lips as he passed, “I’m explaining. Unmagical folk like to think they can tinker in our magical business and I supply the tinkering tools. Everyone wants to be special, Sammy.” 

“First off, it’s Sam, and second of all, half of this crap doesn’t do squat,” Sam retorted, batting the sage. 

“Language, Sammy. And what makes this stuff work is the belief that it does. Sage cleanses the place of negative energy? Sure! If you think it does, it does. All in the noggin,” Dean tapped his temple and smiled as he returned to the front desk and crushed some herbs with his pestle and mortar. 

“Doesn’t that make you a crook?” Dean sighed at the question. 

“Nobody forces them to buy. Plus, if they ask I do close up magic. What’s cooler than a mini snow shower in August?” Dean smiled, his hand collecting the little snowflakes he materialised to prove his point. Sam shook his head but smirked all the same. “Go getcha breakfast Sammy, it’s almost time to go”. 

Dean went to park his car by the side of his shop on the way back from dropping Sam off at school, as he did every weekday, but to his dismay there was an electric, environmentally friendly, totally-a-virgin’s car filling half his space. Dean grimaced and parked on the sidewalk instead, patting the hood of the Impala in sympathy for its subpar parking space. 

“Hey! You! Is that your car blockin’ up my space?” Dean growled as he got out of the car, addressing the man peering through his shops’ window around the red graffiti Dean really should clean up. Dean cringed internally as the man turned around. 

“My apologies, I did not realise that was your space. Allow me to move immediately,” Cas reached into his beige trenchcoat for his keys but Dean stopped him. 

“Yeah, no. It’s fine. I’ll let it slide…this time,” Dean’s failed humour warped Cas’ face into confusion. 

“There is really no need for threats, I meant no disrespect-“ 

“It was a joke, man. Just come in, okay?” Dean shook his head resignedly and opened the door for Cas and Lu, who’d been pecking the concrete floor idly the entire time. 

As soon as Cas had stepped into the shop he backed towards the door again, bumping into Dean. “Hey, what’s the problem?” Dean looked around, confused. Cas stepped forwards a bit, taking refuge on the ladder that was directly in front and marginally out of the way. 

“I’m clumsy.” Cas muttered, eyeing Lu as he hopped around the sliver of carpet that was bare. 

“I don’t see how-oh,” Dean took a long look around and realised the problem. “Well, we could go left to the front desk and square of carpet that I like to call the sitting room. Or we could go right to the extra stock room…but then again maybe not. We can’t do this in the bathroom,” Dean looked at the doorway behind the ladder sceptically and then to Cas himself. “Upstairs?” Dean eventually offered. Cas glanced behind him. 

“Upstairs looks to be the safest option,” Cas nodded and turned, avoiding various dishes of stuff he couldn't name as he climbed the ladder. 

The attic was split into two rooms; the first, which they climbed into, was the kitchen. It was modest but comfortable enough. The appliances didn’t match and there was no apparent colour scheme but everything was there and appeared to be working. Dean walked past Cas and sat at the middle of the length of the rectangular table, gesturing for Cas to take the chair opposite. Cas did so and put his briefcase on the table, extracting everything he’d need to conduct his check-up. 

“Take your shirt off,” Cas commanded, taking a stethoscope out of the black bag. 

“At least buy me a drink first,” Dean winked and chuckled. Cas stared and stared and then stared some more. Dean coughed and unbuttoned. 

Cas walked around the table and took his pulse concluding that it was satisfactory. After some more tests, height, weight and other miscellaneous, Cas sat back down in his chair. 

“Everything seems fine but I will have to conduct such tests every other week or so until the process is over,” Cas wrote something on his notepad and looked up. 

“Yeah, whatever. Why do I have to do this anyway? How many people do you know whose spirit animal materialisation has gone badly?” Dean commented, putting the shirts back on. He kept them off for so long because he liked the faint blush that rose to Cas’ cheeks when he had to take an up close measurement. Plus Cas hadn’t indicated to do otherwise. 

“It’s just precautionary. Some mages with a non-magical parent can reject the change. You are at risk because of your father’s DNA, but the odds are in your favour so don’t let it bother you,” Cas packed his medical equipment away and took out a silver ring. It looked like twigs woven together to make a band of and it was engraved on the inside with some kind of language Dean couldn’t decipher. “Have you got any cedar?” 

Dean went downstairs and returned with a bundle of cedar which he placed on the table with a dubious look. “What are you doing?” he asked Cas who now had out a pestle and mortar and several jars of who knows what. 

“Enchanting the ring. It should bring protection and heal the wearer to some degree. I thought it would do well as an extra precaution,” Cas explained while throwing herbs and some weird liquid into his dish. 

“You do know none of that crap works, right?” Dean glanced at Castiel with an eyebrow raised. 

“I thought you’d be more enlightened, at least I’d certainly hoped so. These materials can do everything they say they can do but what the wiccans left out is that you need a bit of actual magic,” Cas wiggled his fingers only slightly sarcastically. Dean rolled his eyes in response and only got a slight glare in return. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re… uh… frosty?” Dean sat back and watched Castiel's deft fingers break the herbs from their bundles. The man sighed and his head dipped lower over the dish. 

“This is my first case in the field. I think I have the right to be a little jittery,” Cas mumbled into the mixture. Dean wasn’t sure if he was ducking his head in embarrassment or in concentration, his slightly crumpled facial expression sure didn’t give any hints. 

“Sorry dude, didn’t realise,” Dean relented. 

“It is not of import. Give me your lighter,” Dean retrieved the object and passed it over immediately. He paused a second to wonder how Cas knew he had a lighter in his pocket but shrugged it off. Cas seemed like the kind of person to study every detail upon meeting, he probably saw it when taking a measurement or something. Cas began to burn the sage, meanwhile Dean’s eyes ached in a desperate attempt not to roll. 

“If it bothers you so much don’t watch,” Cas grumbled. Dean continued staring. The ring was coated in the gunk that clung to the bowl and the sage was set down to burn. “Roll up your sleeve to the shoulder.” Dean did as commanded while Cas painted his hand with the gloop. “This will hurt,” and that was all the warning Dean got before the sticky hand pressed to his shoulder and there was searing white hot pain throughout his entire body, stemming from his arm. His automatic reaction was to jump back but Cas’ firm grip erased that idea. Dean thought Cas scolded him but he wasn’t sure. The energy cut out his senses almost completely. His mouth tasted ashy, he could hear a piercing screech accompanied with the noise you get when the TV goes snowy when it finds no signal. His eyes stung with barely contained tears and all he could smell was the damn sage that was steadily burning. Where was its protection when Dean was grabbed and attacked by the hot but crazy doctor’s apprentice? 

Cas’ vice grip eventually loosened and Dean reached up to rub his shoulder. There was a welt the shape of Cas’ hand and Dean was not impressed. “Dude, what the hell was that?” he screamed. 

“Don’t be so juvenile, it weakened me too,” Cas scowled and looked suspiciously at the scar left on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s not supposed to scar.” 

Dean looked disbelievingly at Cas’ squinty face, “well that’s great, no worries. I slap some of Sammy’s moisturiser on there and it’ll be swell.” 

“Who’s ‘Sammy’?” Dean looked ready to punch Cas in the face. To Cas’ credit he was beginning to look a little guilty. 

“Right, I’ll just…” Cas picked up the lighter again and set the mixture on the ring alight. Cas threw it into the bowl to burn out and when the flames died down, the ring was shiny and spotless. Not a fleck of murky green herbs on it. Cas put it in the palm of his hand, his blue eyes almost willing the magic in it to work. His palm lit up with a blue tinted blinding white. Dean couldn’t see the tattoo glow because of Cas’ clunky coat that he still hadn’t relieved himself of but Dean imagined it matched the bird perched on the table in some way. Curls of air racing down his back? It was impossible to tell but Dean then found himself burning with the urge to know, to gain this bit of knowledge on him. All thoughts of that disappeared when Cas offered up the ring. 

“Now I really think you should buy me a drink,” Dean awkwardly laughed as he took the ring. 

“Oh…yes, I suppose I could do that. Is this Saturday suitable?” Cas looked up expectantly, clearing the materials on the table away and into his bag simultaneously. Dean's mouth flopped open. 

“Uh, yeah?” Dean asked more than answered but Castiel nodded his head and promised to pick him up at 8 despite Dean’s objections. No way was he getting into that environmentally friendly box of a car. Yet the guy still managed to sweet talk a reluctant acceptance out of Dean. He was losing his edge. Dean was used to being the one impressing and getting the other guy or girl flustered. He’d run his fingers through his hair and make sure the light caught his green eyes beautifully and it’d all be over. A date and a phone number in the bag. But this time Cas had been the one to disarm him with his innocent touches on bare skin as the measuring tape skimmed his stomach. That casual tone never wavered even when Dean practically asked him out on a date. Dean couldn’t believe that he was the one being courted this time. Regardless, Dean was excited. He hadn’t been on a date since Lisa and that had been two years ago. Was this even a date or did Cas just think it was drinks between friends? He didn’t remember it being this complicated. Dean cursed the calendar that read ‘Tuesday’ and willed the days to move faster. He tidied the sage away and thought about what excuse he’d give Sammy when the time came. 

 

Chapter Three 

It was Saturday. Dean was anxiously waiting behind the desk, jumping every time the door opened. He finally made the sign read ‘closed’ at 7:45 and got changed. He wore jeans which Sam mumbled at (he found out he was going on a date, Dean expected no less) but Dean comforted him. They were his nice jeans. He wore a grey t-shirt and was now choosing which plaid shirt should complement it. He took a good few minutes in front of his bed deciding between red and sandy brownish when Sam came in unannounced. Sam sighed like he never had before and balled the latter shirt up and shoved it to Dean’s chest. 

“Your boyfriend is here,” Sam smiled cheekily and waltzed out with that grin still on his face. Dean grumbled half-hearted rebuttals but gave up, the smile passing from Sam to Dean as it attached to the corners his lips. Dean frowned at the now crumpled shirt. He’d actually made an effort to iron that under Sammy’s careful guide. He used magic to heat up his palm and ran it over the material. A quicker version of the manual one he’s seen the non-magical people use. The problem with it is Dean tended to burn straight through the cotton and therefore, Sammy had to stand at the ready with water held floating above his palms. Luckily, the water could be returned safely to the sink, unneeded this once. 

Dean dropped down the ladder gracefully, turning to see Cas in that coat again but instead of the suit and blue tie, he was wearing a blue jumper and blue jeans much like Dean’s own. Relieved he hadn’t dressed down to a black tie event, Dean saluted Sammy who was hiding behind a book he clearly wasn’t reading in the stockroom, and left, arm looped through Cas’.  
“No flowers?” Dean jokingly moped. Cas gave him a half smile in return for that. Worth it. Cas led them to his tiny car and Dean grimaced. “Aw Cas’ c’mere. It’s okay, I don’t mind. But if we do this again I expect a rose at the very least,” Dean smiled, wrapping his arms around Cas’ hips and hugging him from behind. Cas went very still, back straightening like a board. 

“Dean, what are you doing?” Cas whipped around as soon as Dean let go, suspicion glinting in his eyes. The mossy green of Dean’s eyes sparkled back as he lifted his prize. Cas’ keys. The man who had been pickpocketed during what appeared to be an innocent, if uncalled for, hug squinted his eyes in annoyance. 

“We will be taking my vehicle,” Dean announced, leading the way and shoving the stolen keys in his back pocket of the jeans. If he wanted them he could come and get them. 

Eventually Cas followed, although Dean was almost convinced that he’d stubbornly stick by his car. Cas admired the sleek shine of the dark metal although it was clear he was trying to hide it when he muttered “gas guzzler”. 

Cas directed Dean all the way there until they stumbled upon a quaint café that Dean had never noticed before. It was a comfortable place but nothing like the bar Dean had expected. This was cosy with handmade pillows furnishing the cosy plaid chairs which Dean matched. The whole place had a nice atmosphere. It was rustic with low lights and airy windows that accentuated the beech wood floorboards, like the worn wooden homes you see in home magazines. Not that Dean reads those things. All in all, Dean wasn’t disappointed, just surprised. He was mostly surprised about the fact that this little family run café stayed open at 8. 

There were plenty of tables to choose from considering only three other patrons were currently occupying the place but Cas seemed to know where he was going and dashed for the back corner which had a booth seat attached to the wall facing the table and chair beyond. The old guy who had greeted them with a grunt on the way in peered over his newspaper at them when Cas accidentally bumped his chair on the way over but he resumed browsing. The other couple were too absorbed with each other to notice them. Dean felt warmth in his heart as he sat in the chair. Cas had taken him to his place. This was the place where he went to relax and think and work and all of the above, it was obvious. This was Castiel’s space. 

Dean ordered a black coffee which he heated himself and Cas ordered a tea and removed his coat. Dean watched eagerly as Cas held the bottom of the teacup, magic coursing over the sides of the china. The tattoo that Dean had been searching for glowed under Cas’ jumper, faint spots of white breaking through the thickly woven wool. Dean sighed in resignation. He wasn’t going to see that pattern any time soon. 

The bell on the door chimed to alert the staff they had new arrivals. A tired mother came in with a bouncing young girl who pulled on her sleeve as she stared at the white wisps of magic Cas was producing. The mother shook her off impatiently as she ordered a coffee that even astounded Dean who was used to pumping the caffeine in a gallon at a time. The little girl’s mousy pigtails swung back and forth as she hopped over to the table to stare in awe. Cas looked away bashfully and put the cup down much to her dismay.

“Are you magic?” Cas flinched a little at the question but nodded all the same. She squealed in delight and looked hopefully at Castiel who was still avoiding eye contact.

“Go on Cas, give her a little demo why don’t ya?” Dean smiled encouragingly as Cas shuffled in his seat. He coughed and sat up.

“I’m afraid I’ve run out of magic for today,” total lie but Dean didn’t push it.

“C’mere, I’ll show you something cool,” Dean’s grin grew as the girls eyes widened and he opened his palm. She stared unwaveringly at the centre and as it began to glow, she gasped. Little daisies popped up from his palm, slowly unfurling their petals as they bent towards the low light above them. 

“Can I keep them?” her eyes were so full of wonder and excitement that it pained Dean physically to say no but he let them wither and shrink away anyhow. 

“Sorry, kid, can’t keep ‘em going for too long. But if you’re ever around Wayward Street, I can promise there will be magic, we do birthdays,” Dean flipped a card out which her mother, who had materialised behind her in the past few seconds, snatched and crumpled. 

“She won’t be needing that. Come along, Bela,” the little girl, ‘Bela’ frowned but put her hand in her mother’s anyway. Bela looked wistfully back at them and stumbled to keep up with her mum who dragged her impatiently with a curt ‘freaks’ thrown over her shoulder. Dean shrugged and sat back, nonchalant. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cas whispered, staring at his hot drink pointedly. Dean smirked. 

“Seemed like the right thing when she was smilin’ like that,” Dean rested his chin in his palm as he leant on the table. Lu hopped onto the table from the floor, stole Dean’s teaspoon and flew across the room to the window. Dean narrowed his eyes but ignored it. Then the pains began. He clutched his heart as his face screwed up in agony. Cas was across the table in seconds, hand on Dean's back as he curled up on himself. 

“You shouldn’t have used so much powerful magic before eating. Power cannot be…” Cas was interrupted.

“-‘created or destroyed, only passed from one form to another’, yeah we all took magical sciences, Cas,” Dean’s voice faltered on the last word as he winced. 

“I need to...I need to,” and that’s when Dean’s head hit the floor the sickening crack echoing as Cas scrabbled to grab his limp form. Blood trickled from his nose in a steady stream of crimson and that’s the last thing he felt before the room became hazy, black tendrils stealing away Dean’s image of the room as it engulfed his sight completely. 

Chapter Four

Dean woke up in bed at home, Cas leaning over him, waving herbs of some kind that we’re steadily burning. “Hey, Cas. What’s going on?” Dean asked blearily. 

“I said you should’ve eaten first,” is all he said, still waving the thing about. It looked kind of like ginger root.

“Don’t worry, I’ll hang up my cape for a while,” Dean joked, coughing and retching as he tried to laugh. Cas winced and sat on the chair at his bedside. 

“Sam was worried,” Cas said, fiddling with the button on his coat sleeve, staring at it intently.

“I swear an oath to never make small children happy again. I will stop my magical wrong doings now and forever for they are evil and will forever taint my soul,” Dean dramatized, waving his hands about comically.

“Don’t say that.”

“Fine, I’ll still make children happy by finding a quarter behind their ear or something. Real crowd pleaser that one,” Dean snickered.

“Magic isn’t wrong, Dean. You should know better than most what prejudices people have against us. You shouldn’t out that energy out there no matter how sarcastically you meant it,” Dean guessed he was referring to the red graffiti that was scrawled across his window when he came for his first home visit. 

“It doesn’t bother me, Cas. People are always gonna hate the 10%. A few mean words ain’t gonna tear me down.” Cas sighed and looked away at the wall beyond the bed, as if he was waging an internal war. His cerulean eyes connected with Dean’s as he decided.

“My parents were very religious. Naom-um mother, was very strict. She kept Michael and me on a very short leash. Michael, being the eldest, was used to the responsibilities that came with such a religious life. He never thought twice about saying a prayer. Naomi, sorry mum, was in one of those groups. Like the one that defaced your shop but they were more…political. Turns out, a few generations back, a witch married into the family. Mother wasn’t pleased when young Castiel set his baby’s first bible on fire using his bare hands. I wore gloves quite often from then on. Chuck, my father, was absent mostly. He had a calling from God and left for a more religious life in London. I haven’t seen him since. Without Chuck, it got much worse. Michael flinched at the hits at first but he soon adjusted. I prayed and prayed every night, asking God to take this curse away from me. That night, mother broke three of my fingers when I tried to heal Michael’s sprained wrist. It got worse. 

“Mother always kept the disgrace quiet. She didn’t want a scene or any intervention with her ‘punishment’, but soon enough that wasn’t sufficient. She was too pure to lay her hands on a heretic like me. My Wiccan roots had ‘tainted’ me. Then Michael was employed. He was hesitant but as he fell into the flow of things, I guess all of his pent up grief came out. He was always the strong one. I was shaking in my room; the cold was seeping into my bones like little needles digging through my skin. I daren’t use magic to heat me up, mother wouldn’t like that. That night she found me herself, all pretence gone. She wasn’t hiding behind Michael that day. 

“She bent down to my level and poked me in the ribs, hard enough to bruise. ‘Is my baby Castiel cold?’ she taunted. I turned my head but she snapped it back to look at her with force, her hands colder than the air that drove daggers down my throat. ‘You’re a disappointment, Castiel. I named you after a holy angel and you taint his name with your filth’ my eyes welled up, it was a stupid reason to cry really but I liked my name. It’s the bastardised form of Cassiel, angel of sorrow. ‘Your dad is dead, Castiel. You know that don’t you?’ she lied often enough for me to dismiss it but her cold blue eyes seemed to be screaming rather than the usual emotionless sheet of ice I was met with. ‘I wrote him, telling of your disappointment. I told him how you tried to maim Michael with your dark magic. It’s wrong Castiel, ungodly’. 

“At that point, I believed her. ‘He disappeared after that letter. There were tales of him locked up in a mental institute, claiming he was the almighty. You might just have driven him of the edge, Castiel. How fitting’ she was smiling the whole time, wiping away my silent tears in a fake show of sympathy. She made a pouty face and pinched my cheeks ‘don’t worry Cassie, he never cared about you anyway’. 

“I am not proud of what happened next. ‘Cassie’ was the name my late brother Balthazar and my father used to call me. I used my magic for evil for which I can never be forgiven. I drained the life out of her. Blood gushed from her nose as she hit the floor, crying scarlet tears. She screamed, oh did she scream. I remember it vividly. It haunts me but it’s no less than I deserve. I tried to hit it out of my head once. They weren’t best pleased with the head shaped dent and the vomiting kid they found beside it. Boarding schools aren’t too forgiving when it comes to their carpets. So please, Dean. Never say you’ve done wrong with your magic. Never suppress it. Don’t tell me you know evil when you know nothing of it,” Cas’ eyes were digging through Dean’s, right into his skull. Dean’s face wasn’t of sympathy nor understanding. It was one of forgiveness and that hurt Cas the most. I came so easy to some. Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed so he was sitting with his knees knocking Cas’.

“I’m sorry,” he placed his hand over where he knew Cas’ tattoo was and leant in. “And I also know none of this makes up for me being a douche,” and then they kissed. Cas was still at first but when Dean was about to pull back and apologise, Cas slid his fingers into Dean’s hair. Cas’ tattoo glowed which Dean could more feel than see. The white hot energy of it heated his hand which he soon had to remove. Little spots of icy cold tickled his cheeks and he sat back to look. Castiel's tattoo had singed his coat and Dean could see it clearly as the white flakes of pure snow flitted down from the ceiling and congregated in Dean’s hair mostly. He looked up with the sheer joy of it and then laughed. He laughed ridiculously loudly and then leant into Cas again, getting no complaints. 

Long after Cas had gone home, the image of his tattoo danced around his mind. It suited him perfectly. Blocky, black lines much like Dean’s own, curled and swooped to make a wing. The tip of the feathers plunged downwards and ended at the joint between his upper and lower arm, ending with a flick. Dean smiled to himself as he lay in bed, tracing the pattern of his own tattoo. He’d have to invite Cas around again soon once he stopped coughing up a lung, maybe in a week or so. Yeah. That sounded good.

Chapter Five

Cas was at his bedside again. Sammy had been mithering him all morning about having to walk to school but he really knew it was a cover for how worried he’d been. Still, Cas’ company was a pleasant break. Well, he thought it would be until Cas arrived and chastised him upon sight. ‘Should’ve called me sooner’ and blah, blah, blah. Sure Dean was a little paler than his Kansas tan usually allowed but it could just be the flu or something. Cas waved his sage around again but to no avail. 

Dean turned his face into his pillow and coughed up ten lungs and a licence plate. Well you would’ve thought so from Cas’ face. A little trickle of blood is nothing. Could be worse. He kept telling himself that anyway. 

-

Late that day, his animal materialised. It was a jackal. Dean was glad it was a macho-manly animal and not some wimpy ass bird like Cas’. That wimpy ass bird almost pecked his eyes out for that but Cas’ smirk was worth it. They’d been sparser those last few days. Or was it weeks? Dean was losing count. 

-

Sam cried at his bedside as Dean’s jackal whined sullenly. He noticed then that it hadn’t moved in a few hours, just whined and growled. Cas said his spirit was tainted and that the animal was dying. Sometimes the black smoke came through the window and buzzed around the animal but swatting it away did nothing and Dean’s strength began to fail a while ago.

-

Cas prayed at his bedside which Dean didn’t like but he appreciated the sentiment. He’d be up and about in no time, his fever just needed to break. The blood would clear up soon enough. Cas waved that damn sage every day. It never worked.

-

Dean could tell Cas was getting desperate. Angelica root was put in all four corners of the house and burned. Cas even slipped it in his hot drink. He had to drink through a straw now which irked Dean but he hadn’t the energy to lift himself to sit anymore. 

Bobby was there, grunting as he looked at Dean and his jackal. Bobby’s dog was downstairs though, he wouldn’t go near the opening in the ceiling despite Bobby’s strict reprimanding. 

“I’m not gonna lie to ya boy, this ain’t lookin’ too good. The energy in this room is unlike any I’ve felt. There’re evil spirits at work here and there ain’t nothin’ I can do. Yer jackal there is gonna disappear pretty soon lad so say goodbye and finish yer bucket list sharpish,” Bobby began to get up before Dean could protest but Castiel's glare pinned him in place.

“Dean isn’t going to die. I’ve been using all of the proper herbs and I have followed procedure to the letter. He has a younger brother down there. Who knows what will happen to some magical child like him in the system?” Castiel began to ramble, he was pleading with Bobby but that couldn’t change what was clearly going to happen.

“Sorry, boy but there ain’t nothin’ I can do fer him now. I’ve seen ‘em slip away just like that. It ain’t pretty and there’s nothin’ you can do for him now. I appreciate yer situation here but you gotta let him go,” Bobby said, softly but firmly. He was trying to protect Cas but it was making things worse if anything.

“I am not doing this for some petty crush, Bobby. Regardless if I have feelings for Dean or not, he is my patient and I can’t let him go like this,” Cas was almost shouting now. He heard sniffling from downstairs in between hushed sobs and it just made it worse. Dean closed his eyes and his breath rattled out painfully.

The two looked over to see the jackal’s legs disappearing. The spirit animal’s glow was completely black and writhing now and the strands of evil wrapped tighter around its body, drawing a whimper. Dean reached to clutch at the animal but it was barking and convulsing, the body being eaten up by some unknown entity. Cas looked away, tears springing up. The sound was awful. He felt sick to his stomach. Dean was crying out now. 

Cas flinched with every scream. He couldn’t take it. It sounded just like when…no, he wouldn’t think back to that. Dean jerked and shook, his nose running red. Just like Naomi. 

Stop thinking. Stop thinking.

The image of her brunette bun coming undone as she shook burned into his eyes. The gushing blood painted rivers in his mind. His hands were glowing now and Bobby looked at them pointedly. 

“Boy…” he warned.

You are safe. You aren’t back there. This is Dean. Naomi isn’t here.

Cas shuddered, Dean's screeches hitting him, one after the other. He heard loud cries from underneath his feet. Just like Balthazar’s at first. Dean’s screeches became whimpers as the jackal disappeared altogether. Castiel glanced back, it was a mistake. Crimson tears cut estuaries across the pale white of Dean’s cheeks. His green, green eyes became blue. Flashes of the past mixed with the present. He didn’t remember Dean’s hair being so dark.

Danger, danger, danger. She’s going to do it again. Protect Balthazar. Protect him. Protect…

Cas’ hands were pressed into Dean’s hair, thumbs to his temples. The scarlet liquid trickled from his nose now, no longer a tidal wave of ruby droplets. Dean’s eyes opened, completely black, devoid of the love he’d once held within them. Someone was trying to pull him back.

Michael! It’s Michael. He’s trying to help Naomi. He’s trying…

The bluish-white of his magic suddenly became very red, like the immaculate garden of roses Naomi held so dear. 

Naomi.

As the last drop of life was being drained from Dean’s now very still body, Dean’s lips opened one last time.

“C-aaa…s,” and he was gone. The black shrunk back leaving only the olive green and flecks of golden honey Castiel had come to love. Could it…could it be?

Dean…?

The world came crashing down around him.


End file.
